


I Wonder How Long It Will Take 'Til We're Alone

by ialpiriel



Series: Do You Remember (Sole Survivor Mal) [11]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Humor, Unrequited Crush (but not really)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:18:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ialpiriel/pseuds/ialpiriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>glory has Gay Feelings for f!sosu</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wonder How Long It Will Take 'Til We're Alone

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on the [fallout kink meme](http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/7011.html?thread=19894627#t19894627)

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck?

Fuck.

Fixer is leaning across the sarcophagus the dinner table is set up on, leaning into Tom’s story, his wild hand gestures, giving him an adoring, rapturous audience which is really what the poor guy needs, and she's doing _that smile_.

It’s the same one G5 always did, too, eyebrows pulled down and nose wrinkled, grinning like she’s got an idea for a nasty prank.

Fuck.

She had looked Glory in the eye when she stumbled into HQ the first time, Valentine in tow, looked all four of them in the eye--Desdemona, Glory, Drummer Boy, Deacon. Had looked Glory’s minigun in the eye, too. She’d been carrying that fucking baseball bat and she had stared at the minigun like she was offering a direct fucking challenge. It would have been hot, if it hadn’t been a threat too.

Now that they’re three months out, and Fixer is laughing at Tom’s really terrible joke, it _is_ hot. Suddenly she’s seeing Fixer’s swagger behind her eyes, strutting across HQ like she’s never been afraid in her life, winking at some of the other agents, who grin back. She’s seeing the way Fixer tips her head back when she meets Glory’s eyes, tips her chin up like she’s gesturing for Glory to come closer, the dozen times she’s appended a wink to it. She’s thinking about the way Fixer can drop the whole thing and go dark and cold, tip her chin down, tilt the side of her face covered in burn scars toward whenever she’s talking to, turn it into less of a diplomatic approach and more like the way Glory likes to do it--act bigger, tougher, stronger than anyone else in the room, prove it if you have to.

Fixer leans forward on her elbows, eyes wide, eggs Tom on more, and the way the muscles in her arms and shoulders shift under her skin leaves Glory feeling like someone punched her in the chest, just below her throat, leaves the breath caught up somewhere between her lungs and her mouth, sends _some feeling_ sparking up the back of her skull that’s not anything she’s ever named--not love, not lust, but some indefinable _thing_ she gave up on trying to nail down years ago.

Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, and even though Deacon is laughing with Fixer and Tom and Drummer Boy, leaning against the back wall, he sees.

He sees, and he grins more, widens his eyes, looks at her in a way that might be a threat if Fixer wasn’t only flexing, flirting, puffing herself up at other girls.

Well, it’s still a threat, but it’s less of a threat and more a promise.

Fixer sits back and _god_ she’s so _broad_ , broad shoulders, broad hips, broad middle, enough muscle under all of it she could probably pick Glory up and haul her for a half mile without breaking a sweat.

She leans her chin on her hand, tries to look casual, tries not to cover her mouth as flashes of lust and _ideas_ about those arms start to coalesce into a fantasy. This is not what she needs. This has never been anything near what she needs. This is entirely unnecessary and Fixer is throwing her head back and laughing at Tom’s punchline, and when she leans in there’s so much genuine care in her eyes that Glory has to close her own eyes and stop looking and take a few deep breaths before she starts crying.

When she opens them again, Deacon is looking right at her, grins chesire-like and with eyebrows waggling.

She flips him off when Fixer can’t see.

Fuck.


End file.
